Lilah

Chapter 13 Drugs #2

At least he doesn't judge me. If he did, I'd pizza slap him. But I'd make sure the pizza slice wouldn't fall on the floor so that it doesn't waste and I can still eat it.

He freaking lets me watch movies all day and if that doesn't just tickle my pickle, then I don't know what does.

He kissed my forehead.

I pooped my pants. Nearly.

I couldn't help but kiss his back. I mean come on, it was right in my reach.

My assumption for why the gun guy said 'look at the time'; they were planning to go party. Or to a club maybe. I mean, I'm only nineteen so I'm basically three years old so I get why he didn't invite me.

I probably wouldn't have gone anyway. That's a lie, if Grey is there, I'd pretty much go anywhere with him.

I begin to work with the books in the store, catching up on everything I haven't been doing since I've been all over the place lately.

Gosh, Grey gives the best hugs for not being very experienced with them.

His big arms just know how to wrap all the way around me and it ruffles my truffles like no one else.

The man radiates body heat better than a hot sidewalk in the middle of summer on a day where it's hotter than Satan's actual butthole.

Goodness knows how long passes before I feel a hand on the small of my back. I turn and see Grey. Automatically, a smile reaches my lips.

"What?" he questions, looking at my too-wide-of-a-smile and I bite my lip. His eyes follow my action and I release my lip, remembering how he hates when I do that.

I quickly put away the last few books in the cart and then I look back up at him. His eyes are on my bottom half. Aka, my buns. My biscuits. My money maker. My butt.

"What are those pants?" he asks and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"They're leggings," I smile. His butt would look phenomenal in a pair of leggings. But he doesn't look like he'd wear them, unfortunately.

"Mm," he hums, grabbing my arm and turning me sideways and backward a couple of times.

"Fuck me," he mumbles under his breath and my eyebrows furrow again. His places his hands on my hip. One of the hand trails to my stomach.

"You hungry?" he questions and I throw my head back in laughter before letting my forehead fall against his chest.

We've already gone over this.

"I'm not hungry," I shake my head. He places a kiss on my forehead and butterflies flutter all the way down to my toes.

As soon as he pulls away, he's leaning down for me to kiss his. I do so with a smile before catching sight of his bruised knuckles.

"What happened?" I lift his hand.

"I punched a shit in the face," he says like it's a normal thing but my eyes widen. At first I thought he punched an actual poop, like a cow poop maybe or something but that wouldn't leave a bruise.

"I did too," I nod, showing him my completely clean and unbothered knuckles.

"I'm just so good at punching, it's not even bruised or anything," I give him an I'm-totally-telling-the-truth smile.

"I could teach you some time if you'd like," I raise my eyebrows twice, meanwhile he's still looking at my knuckles for bruises.

My mind wonders off as I catch sight of a book with a maple leaf on it. I thought it was a weed thingy leaf or whatever the heck that 'herb' is, if it is even a herb.

"I also took weed."

His eyes come back up to mine. I've never even seen a real live weed that you do. I'm just blabbing by now.

"You smoked weed," he fixes and I nod.

"I smoked weed," I don't know why I keep it up.

"How'd it go?" a single eyebrow of his raises.

"Why don't you tell me?"

I don't have a clue what weed will do to you. Literally two seconds ago I thought you took weed, not smoke it.

"I wouldn't know," he leans against the bookcase beside us and I roll my lips into my mouth.

At least he doesn't do drugs. Unlike me, I do the hard stuff. That's what she said. Stop.

"I smoked LSD once," I inform him and he nods, tucking a piece of my hair behind my that had fallen in my face after I nodded harshly to make sure he understands how goodly I do the drugs.

"You took LSD," a small smile graces his lips.

"I think I'm on it right now," I gush over the smile on his lips.

"I bet you are."

"What does crystal meth look like?" I question. Do people collect the crystals? Because they're crystals, so wouldn't they be pretty?

What if someone found a crystal somewhere, and then they kept it because it was pretty only to find out that it was meth?

"Little white crystals," he says and I give him a little smile.

"I love it when you talk drugs to me," I bite my lip to keep the laugh that is bubbling in my throat in.

He chuckles. Like, actually chuckles. I sigh internally and replay the sound in my head.

"I still haven't seen you shirtless," I blurt and then proceed to ignore my cheeks that are starting to tinge pink.

He looks around the store and I begin to get my hopes up. He spots a window though. Instead of forgetting about it, he grabs my hand and leads me to the bathroom.

He shuts the door behind us and I take a seat on the closed toilet, shimmying happily.

"I have to warn you," he says. Warn me about what? 'Azalea, I have to warn you. You might die from how freaking attractive I am.' That might actually happen.

"About..?" I question, looking up at him.

"You won't have a fit?" he says and I look up at the ceiling for the answer.

"Oh gosh, you have an extra nipple?" I gasp and his eyebrows furrow.

"I got stabbed last night but it's patched up," my eyes widen to the size of freaking Jupiter. I stand from my seat on the toilet and pace around the bathroom.

Here I was thinking about how I'm going to deal with an extra nipple and he's actually freaking stabbed?

"I tell you not to get headbutted," I say, "and you don't. Which is great!"

"But you went and got stabbed?!" I look up at him. Do I need to show him the CIA videos I watch? Maybe that'll help him get his stuff together.

Doesn't he own a bar?! Why the heck did he get stabbed?

"Did you stab him back?" I question, making an odd jabbing motion with my hand. He pauses as if he's thinking about the answer.

"He's dead," he hesitantly says unlike everything else he has always said. He's very straightforward.

I'm in the bathroom with a man who has just committed a kill. Or done a kill. Or killed someone, whatever or however you say it.

"Do I need to hide you from the po-po?" I question him. Is he a criminal? A convict?

Konvict, Upfront, Akon, Slim Shady.

Stop, this is serious.

Smack that, all on the floor

Smack that, give me some more

I take a deep breath.

"You know what? My trunk has a lot of space so you can stay in there," I nod to him therapeutically.

"Lilah," he says, "you don't need to hide me in your trunk."

"Oh no," I run my hand through my hair, "that's because you've already been arrested and they set bail but you paid it and now you're out until trial, right?"

"I'm a fed."

"I'm proud of you for being a fed-ex worker or driver or whatever but we're talking abou-"

"FBI, Lilah."

"You're an FBI-er?" I gasp, my eyes wide.

"Of sorts," he shrugs a single shoulder and then realization dawns on me.

"I told you I did drugs!" I hold my heart, my mouth wide open.

"I watched movies on an illegal website!" I continue, "for the record if your computer starts going slow, it may or may not be because of that site."

I ruined a fed's computer.

Oh, Jesus help me please Lord, God. I close my eyes tightly for a minute and pray.

Dear God and Jesus, I need both of you right here, please.

I've just basically ensured that I will be sent to prison so if you can, watch over me while I go to prison.

Please help make my sentence not that terribly long.

Maybe even help make my bail only about a hundred dollars.

When I get to the prison place, help me make decisions to not get beaten up by the scary people there.

And help me not get Polio. Or Hepatitis A, or Hep B, or Hep C, I'm not sure how many letters of the alphabet Hepatitis has after it but none of the Hepatitis'.

Just please God and Jesus, you too Mother Mary, and Joseph.

Even you too Noah, Abraham this goes for you too, even you Moses.

I love you all, I promise, I'm a faithful child so please help me out here, Amen.

"Take me away," I tell Grey after finishing my prayer.

"Hm?" he hums confusedly. I look up at him. Theren't any cuffs in his hands. Not like I need them anyway, I won't struggle. Even if I did struggle, it wouldn't take much to get me controlled.

I hold my head in my hands. He's just made his investigation worse by actually getting me to like him.

Oh gosh, what else have I done that can make me get a longer sentence? Is telling someone they have a small peepee a crime? I'm the worst lawbreaker I've ever met.

I feel him move close to me. He bends down but I keep my head down. His hands come to take mine away from my head before resting on the sides of my face.

"Take me to prison already," I whisper quietly. He doesn't say anything, he just leans forward and presses a soft kiss against my cheek.

He's just making it worse. But please do it again.

He pulls his hands away. Most likely to get the handcuffs now. I get confused when I feel his strong arms lift me up. He turns and sits on the closed toilet seat, before situating me on his lap.

"You're not going anywhere," he mutters.

"So you're turning this store into a prison and this bathroom into my cell?" I sigh.

"At least I have a pooper," I look at the bright side. It's a clean pooper too.

"You haven't done anything," he rests his tattooed hand on my thigh.

"But drugs," I remind him.

"You didn't do drugs," he shakes his head and I narrow my eyes at him.

"How would you know?" I ask a freaking fed.

"Call it intuition," he rolls his gorgeous eyes. Was that sarcasm?

I follow the trail of tattoos up his arm.

"Can you take your shirt off?" I question again and that beautiful smirk appears on his lips once again and I yawn.

All this freaking out has got me tired.

"Let's go to my place," he offers and my eyebrows rise up. Don't have to tell me twice.

~~~

"I'm ready now," I sit on his couch, surprised at how comfy it is. He comes to stand in front of me.

"Why do you want me to?" he questions, gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up to below his belly button. I get eager as heck.

"I'll take mine off," I offer although I won't actually. Well...maybe.

"No you won't," he grumbles, lowering the shirt back down a bit.

"I'll take my pants off," I offer. His eyebrows raise a bit as if considering it but then he shakes his head.

"You won't," he says, lowering it even further a teasing look on his face now.

"I'll," I struggle, "um, um. What do you want?"

"Stay the night."

"Like a sleepover, done deal!" I smile, happy I won't have to go home tonight. His lip turns up at the word 'sleepover.'

"And I need your number," he looks at me, a little smirk on his lips.

"You're a fed, you can figure it out," I tease and his eyes narrow. He lets go of his shirt.

"I'm joking, you know I'm joking," I say immediately, "I'll give it to you."

We went this long without contacting each other by text. We talked just like the olden days.

He grabs the bottom of his shirt again and I smile a little.

"Y'know," he steals my word that I use all the time, "this isn't very friendly as you say."

"I don't care at the moment. I have the chance to see someone shirtless besides my brother and his best friend, so I'm going to take it."

I'm not experienced in the slightest. With hardly anything. All I know is school health class and sex ed.

His eyebrows furrow and his head tilts a tiny bit.

"You mean-"

"Yes," I interrupt and he gives me a little smile that I read right through. The little smile says 'aw.'

Aw, kiss my grits.

He lifts his shirt off his head and the breath is knocked out of me and thrown out the window. The room's temperature rises a good twenty degrees.

In front of me stands not a man but a man. Never have I ever seen a real live six pack.

It's not so defined like those models that only eat dry spinach leaves right off the tree or wherever they come from, but gosh darn it if it isn't obvious.

His muscles are purely man-ness and not from weights but from hard work.

He's thick, I have to admit, he's not some skinny guy. He's truly a wall of muscle.

I feel myself gaping at him. I think Bear is doing the same thing. Probably not but I pretend he is so that I'm not the only one.

I was right that there are more tattoos. I stand and go to get a closer look at them. I feel his gaze on me as I come closer to him.

On his bicep, which is always covered by his shirts, there's a battle. There's a person with wings who stands with her foot over a man with horns. Devil horns. She holds a sword to him but it doesn't pierce his skin. He's defeated.

Just on the other side of his bicep, which holy freaking heck is strong and built and as big as my leg, there's a very realistic skull with tons of details an all. I swear Vincent Van Gogh did his tattoos.

Then spreading over to the one side of his chest, there's a huge lion head roaring which also has a crazy amount of detail.

On his back, spreading over his shoulder blade, there's another angel.

She reminds me of those old statues that they have in Greece.

She wears a robe and she looks to her left where she lays her hand on a man.

A cross sits in her other hand. Shading fills in space behind them making the two of them really come to life.

I look down at his hand. A bunch of small tattoos litters his hand. From more realistic skulls to daggers and even to nicer things like a small pair of praying hands, his hand is full of tattoos just like his arm.

There aren't any flowers. Which is odd. Everything is dead pretty much. Usually, in sleeves that I've seen on celebrities, they like to fill up space with flowers like roses. Wherever there was space needing to be filled on Grey's arm, I feel like he used skulls or other...scary things.

But I love it. It's him.

I look at his other arm and see where he was talking about. On the bandage that has been wrapped around his arm, there's a little blood seeping through. It'll need to be changed soon.

I'll also need to get out of my trance soon.

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Thank you for reading!

*Not edited*

Word count: 4627

-Ashlyn Montgomery